Giggles Among Sadists
by ROGUEFURY
Summary: Among a sea of fear where the weak and stupid drown, two darkened souls float in the chaos, giggling and smiling in the wake they leave behind-together. Joker/OC Post-TDK
1. Chapter 1

I do not own any aspect of The Dark Knight, or Batman, or the Joker, etc.

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**Chapter 1: A Glasgow behind the Window**

She couldn't remember what the sun looked like, let alone how it felt on her face, but that fact never lingered in her manic brain for more than a split second. What had she been thinking about?? Ah, getting to finally draw and sketch and doodle and map to her heart's content. Her fingers itched when they went long without clutching a pencil and scribbling freely over a sheet of alabaster paper. Now why did she lose that 'privilege'…?

She rolled her tightly bound shoulders in thought, tossing her head to the side to glance at the small square that peered into her padded room from the heavy and bolted door to her cell. Her mussed hair fell in her face and across her back as she cocked her head from side to side in thought. Ah! Dr. Riley had been very 'disappointed' with her behavior of…a month ago??? Yes, a month! Solitary confinement to her cell as punishment. And if her manic and harried thoughts were correct, that nasty pill had been upped in dosage. Why they drugged her to make her crazier was just silly to her, but it wasn't as if she had much to complain about.

Except the lack of entertainment as of late…or of a very long time, again time escaped her sometimes…or always?

She huffed, her tongue darting out to flick against the grate of her face muzzle as she again cocked her head to glance at the door. Wiggling her toes, she quickly tucked her legs under her as she heard the familiar footsteps of an orderly approach the heavy door before it was snapped open with a series of unlocking locks. The heavy door swung open with a groan and an unfamiliar orderly stepped into the threshold, staring at her hostilely but with an undercurrent of apprehension.

"Solitaire is over. You get 1 hour in the Rec Hall today before Dr Riley's consultation" the brawny orderly stated in a rehearsed tone; definitely a newbie to Arkham Asylum. The crispness of his statement made her think of a little soldier intent on following rules than staying alive.

"Then can I take the jacket off today??? I'll keep the muzzle on, promise" she chirped in a genial tone, her eyes widening considerably as she vaulted to her feet easily, earning a flinch from the orderly.

"I was told you are to not, nor have you ever been let out of your cell without it. Sorry…"

"What's your name?? You're very _cute_" she asked abruptly, her tone compounding into a whispery low octave on the last word.

"Ms. Gwen, your privileges can be revoked again-"

"Oh ok ok, don't get all bent" she paused her chide as she almost danced to the door and leant forward, invading his personal space as she red his name tag. "Rowan, sounds fun!"

Growing more uncomfortable by the minute, the orderly took her firmly by her straight-jacket-bound bicep and led her out of her cell and down the way too brightly lit hall.

Happily marching, Gwen mockingly paced in time to the orderly's lead, her long legs and fluid stride getting attention from other staff members and from the criminals in the cells with damage-proof glass looking out to the walkway. Feeling the tension in his grip, Gwen decided to just make a list of what she'd do during her free hour instead of teasing the newbie.

Before she knew it, the entrance to the recreation wing was in front of her, and she teetered in excitement on the balls of her feet as Rowan signed her in and slid his access ID into the slot. As soon as they were buzzed in, the doors rolled open to reveal a room of tension.

Gwen raised a brow, her glee and list forgotten as she eyed the other Arkham inmates as they whirled on her briefly before returning their tense gazes at the glass cell where individual criminals were isolated from the rest of the population while still allowing them to a single chair and TV, all of which were bolted to the floor or the ceiling.

"I'll be in the guard's booth. Once your time is done, I'm to take you straight to 's office" Rowan stated as he released his grip of her arm. Gwen winked at him before her eyes took on the inquisitive expression from the curious scene.

Strolling further into the hall, she glanced at the inmates dressed in matching white hospital pants and shirts, men and women alike allowed to be in proximity only with several chaperoning orderlies in sight, as they took in her disheveled appearance, and the lack of matching attire characteristic to Arkham inmates.

Advancing along the large hall, which was securely divided into TV areas lined up on either side, the art room flanking behind the table game sections, and tense faces ignoring all of the spare amenities mentioned, she finally decided to glance in the direction the crowd was in awe of.

And there he was. Tilting her head in wonder, Gwen unabashedly stared at the Arkham inmate who stood out from the bleached and peeling walls of the confined media room. Sitting in the bolted chair that faced out to the rest of the recreation hall—attention on nothing in particular, but definitely not on the TV bolted to the ceiling— was a man who gave the Joker plastered within all the deck of cards in the game section a run for its money.

"Why's he get to wear his freaky make up" she heard someone finally whisper to no one in particular. She didn't bother to glance back, but did bother to slink closer to the middle of the room as she took in the clown-faced menace locked in his special little glass room.

"Supposedly they tried to wash him over, but none of the guards or docs could get close enough without breaking a few jaws or other parts" drawled a heavily medicated inmate, who sipped on his paper cup.

Cocking her head, Gwen found that interesting, all thoughts of drawing thrown to the winds of her manic mind.

"And what's _this one's_ deal?" someone else rasped. At that, she cocked her head to the other side, her gaze still locked onto the dark but alluring glare that bore out of the black rims of the terrorist clown's eyes.

"Hey girly! That ain't a fuckin' puppy in the window" she felt the heavy hand plop onto her shoulder, the gritty breath against the side of her neck russling her long dark hair. "Have some respect and join the rest of us; maybe I'll be nice and help you out of this oh-so-_sexy_ getup of yours" growled the inmate who seemed too lucid to have been in for long. Another newbie she mused, without taking her eyes off the Joker.

"No thanks…I'm taking in the sights, friend. Now step off" she flatly replied as she stepped out of his contact and closer to the cell before them.

She watched as the man wiggled his fingers, tapping erratically against his knees as he hunched forward in his chair, as if he strummed to a beat _he_ could only hear. His greasy white face paint was cracking around the laugh lines of his face, and was rubbed off around his temples while his tinted hair clung messily around his face.

He looked fun enough to _draw_.

"Is that so?? What're you going to do, doll, when you can't even raise a hand to swat a lover off yah?" the brute behind her fumed threateningly under his breath, tugging at her manic impatience, but still not managing to break her attention to the sadist and maniacal murderer behind the glass.

"You know the shank hidden in the rubber of your flip flop?" She paused and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "I'll have that in your jugular before you can make that "_MEEP_!" sound everyone makes when I _play_ with them" she giggled jovially, her murderous intent an undertone emphasized by the drag of tone on the word play.

As the galoot gurgled a shocked sound and fumed behind her, she couldn't help but smile behind her muzzle as the enigmatic clown licked his lips and haphazardly clasped his hands over his knees before sitting back in his chair, his jagged Glasgow grin puckering as he contained a fit of random chuckles that were slightly audible over the commotion stirring in the room and over the sound of neglected television sets.

He seemed like a macabre sculpture that was about to burst into life. Definitely more interesting than the Joker icon plastered in any deck of cards—

Suddenly sensing the blow that was whizzing for her head, Gwen bent like a gymnast completely out of the way of the blow that whizzed past her torso, and did a handless cartwheel, managing to catch the brute in his jaw before her bare feet skidded on the rough carpeting. Glancing at the crowd, she realized what the commotion had been. Some of the inmates had retreated to neutral corners while the tough guys decided to have some special recreation time. Two had braced themselves against the door to bar intrusion from the staff while a few of them decided to take turns beating the chaperones they'd been able to subdue quite easily.

Giggling, Gwen ignored them briefly as she fixed the man with the malevolently quirked smirk in a burning stare that spoke of malice, sadism, and most importantly, _mirth_ at what she was about to do.

"So_ooooooooooo_ guys…no drawing for me for another month…"

The taunt preceded the lurch that reverberated the room as the brute and his friends lunged towards the mischievous creature with the lively auburn eyes.

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THANKS FOR READING!

This was a stray idea that's been nagging at me since I got into the fandom. I'm still not sure if I'll be continuing the idea. I'm hoping that people's feedback will give me a push into the right direction, so please REVIEW, good or bad, I'd like to know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own any aspect of The Dark Knight, or Batman, or the Joker, etc. This is a fanfiction of the Nolanverse, hence not mine and based on Chris Nolan's adaptations of The Batman and his universe. I do not make any money from this, nor do I profit in any other manner. The Batman is a creation of DC comics, as if I needed to tell anyone that, but ok. Oh, btw, I don't own Batman or the Joker, or Gotham City, nor do I have a patent on sadism. Enough said? No? Well shit lol ALL I OWN IN THIS STORY IS THE FANGIRL GLEE THAT SPAWNS IT! Peace, and ENJOY!!!

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Chapter 2: A String-less Marionette Behind the Window

His capture and incarceration had been negligible. After all, he was a man with a gift for creating options; options that got many maimed or incinerated under normal circumstances. To his credit, he wasn't a typical _man_, and he exuded that with every flick of his tongue and flaring glance, but his psychological attributes seemed to earn him more attention than even his jagged glasgow did as of yet. This was especially true in his present abode, Arkham.

Ah, the place seemed to be the attraction of the decade, thanks to Dr. Crane's tutelage, but the Joker didn't consider his stay very permanent. He gave his arrangements a few weeks to fall into place, and while the gears chugged into motion, he figured he'd enjoy his stay. The ride to the asylum had been one fraught with amusement, for him only sadly, since the Gotham police detail to his armored transport caused more terror and anxiety as it caravanned from the courthouse to the imposing and morose asylum edifice than his little hospital ransom had a few days earlier.

Surrounded by heavily-armed cops, he was led in handcuffs and ankle shackles into the building and immediately into inmate processing. Chuckling at the gun barrels pointed on him, he'd extended his wrists to the trembling orderly in charge of undoing his handcuffs so that he could be subject to his oh-so-_invasive_ routine strip search. The room was tense with asylum staff and SWAT members, leaving him alone in his maniacal humor, but he didn't mind it much, until the same orderly got too se_cure_ and went for his face.

It'd been an innocent reflex shattering the fellow's jaw against the stainless steel table he'd been leaning against with mocking boredom; the dutiful dope had tried to wipe his clown paint off, but he'd immediately seen the humor in his flare up when a few guards had slammed him into the tiled stall used to wash off incoming patients with the fire hose, landing several blows that earned guffaws of hysterical hilarity than grunts of pain. His peel of laughter had irked the guards quickly back, leaving him with his arms curled around to hold his aching and bruised sides as he cackled at the crowd in front of him.

His nudity was jarring and impressive all at once, but in the presence of so many prying eyes, it—as well as the cavity search—had failed to humble and humiliate the sociopathic clown that had marred Gotham City with its own weakness and terror.

The burst of icy water had only pried a whoop of grunts and unintelligible catcalls from the Joker, who proceeded to raise each arm to scrub down his sides and along his taut belly, gargling a silly tune as he sloshed the water that he slurped noisily into his mouth before spitting it out and hopping from foot to foot as the water blasted against his sun-kissed body.

He'd chuckled to himself as he toweled off in front of the tense audience, relishing the fact that they had pointedly avoided blasting water at his face; a lovely sign that spoke volumes of their opposition towards exploiting his fall from grace just so they wouldn't incur his swift wrath.

They knew he was still to be feared. Jail, Arkham, or in his custom-made suit, he was still the harbinger of terror.

He savored the fear as if it was a sweet taste that lingered on his tongue and lips; savored it as they led him down the austere corridors and along the walkways to his quarters in the maximum security wing of Arkham Asylum. Maximum _security_. Hah, haha_hah_…People invested sooo _much_ into that _word_. It was the most goddamned funniest concept; one he worked mighty hard to flip on its head. Even at this very moment, as he sits in his Spartan-styled cell, he twiddles his thumbs and chuckles at the thought that his city was being lulled into a false sense of security, one begging to be pulled out from under it's feet.

All in good time…

"Yo! Freak show! Time for your recreation hour" the harsh voice rasped through the intercom of the glass wall that revealed his quarters to plain view, nestled in the corner adjacent to the elevator used to escort high-level inmates to every floor of the asylum. Slapping his wet lips together, the Joker glanced up at the orderly and two guards from the corner of his smeared black-rimmed eyes, his greasy green and streaky hair dangling into his face as he tilted his head comically at the crew. "You heard me! On your feet, walk to the door with your hands behind your head and your legs spread" ordered the orderly, Gary, he remembered, as he dangled the handcuffs and shackles up in impatience.

Slowly getting to his feet, the Joker crookedly swaggered towards the door, dusting invisible lint off his plain white hospital shirt before assuming the stance he'd been ordered.

The door was unlocked with a security code, the reinforced glass sliding to the side to allow access into the cramped cell. One of Arkham's new upgrades after Crane's little stunt the year before. As they secured him, the Joker looked mockingly concerned before leaning towards the orderly and drawling, "Hi Gair-uh, long time no see—tell me! How's the little woman doing?"

"Shut the hell up, asshole!" growled the orderly, shoving him out of his cell to begin the shuffle down towards the recreation hall of the asylum.

"Ah-ta-ta-taaaah, now Gary ol' buddy, ol' _pal_" he paused, wetting his red-smeared lips and fixing the man with a comical glint in his eye before adding, "yah gotta take hold of that resentment-uh, yah got against me. It wouldn't _kill_ you to be a little more…_frien_dly."

"It's going to earn you a mouthful of blood if you don't shut the fuck up, clown" was the terse reply he earned along with the shove into the elevator before being flanked by the guards on each side of him.

Whistling a sigh, the Joker knew his lack of retaliation as of late was helping his case, or more importantly, setting the trap of compliance that would make his coup the more fun…but in all honesty, the only entertainment he had of late was the instigation of these lunk-headed drones and the crusading docs that tried to either condemn him into permanent solitaire or coddle him into scapegoats for his unique and innate genius, to justify and rationalize a mind with no equal or mold to copy. The latter had been a funny surprise at his hearing, as a butting Arkham liaison and junior psychiatrist had mounted a public defense for him—to his public defenders harried chagrin, even going as far as lobbying that forcefully medicating him without sufficient time to diagnose and treat him was an infringement to his constitutional right to refuse medication, and the judge had actually bought the argument! Hah, it was probably the reason why he wasn't strung out of his mind, or more out of his mind, depending on who you asked…

But that was going to change once the head of the asylum appointed a psychiatrist to his case. He wondered why the little firecracker from the hearing hadn't rallied to be appointed to his case, but his musings drifted to more interesting things, such as the special glass media room he was now ushered into.

"You got one hour in here. Start any trouble, and its back into your cell for another 72 hours straight, clear?" Gary grumbled as he unshackled the clown, who rubbed at his wrists for show as he scowled around the sparse room.

Once he was unbound, the Joker flicked the tip of his tongue to tug at the corner of his mouth before sardonically replying: "Crysssstaall."

With that, his detail backed out of the room, slamming the heavy steel door shut and leaving him to his devices, which in his current surroundings weren't much, even for a resourceful maniac like him.

Plopping into the bolted chair, he swiveled around almost childlike, humming to himself before allowing the chair to stop in front of the thick glass pane that looked out at the large recreation hall filled with his fellow Akham-ites. He had felt the weight of their stares from the second he stepped into the little room, and now took great pleasure in ignoring the gossip-spewing anchorwoman on the bolted ceiling TV at his far off corner to clasp his tapered fingers over his thighs, thrumming sporadically to a haphazard beat as he glared out at his spectators.

He raised a brow at them, as if silently saying, 'is there something on my face???', before his attention was directed to the buzzing of the door that led in and out of the hall just beyond his enclosed media room. He followed the other inmates' glances with the corner of his eyes, absentmindedly rubbing the tip of his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip.

Now, this was one _in-tri-ging_ Arkham-ite!

The first thing he saw was a mane of mussed brown hair that dangled down to the small of her back and flowed over her shoulders to brush against the side of her face—was that a muzzle? Hah! And a straight_jacket_?! He internally snorted, wondering why he hadn't ever donned one yet…well well _well_…what a pair of legs. Too bad the rest of her curves were bound up…didn't know Arkham allowed for short shorts, especially soooo _ex_quisitely _short_.

Then, as if finally aware of where the tension in the room was riveted to, she turned towards him, and oohh-_lightmyfire_—those are some crazy-beautiful eyes. Emphasis on the crazy, but still, one hell of a shame the rest of her is so packaged up.

Her stare was so intensely focused, so intent on scanning him as if for interest sake…or was it appreciation? He chuckled to himself, boring his dark gaze into the earthy auburn stare framed by the mussed brown hair as he watched a burly inmate approach her the way a thug sizes up a plaything. She buffed the man, stepping closer towards his little chamber without ever pulling her eyes away from his. Wiggling his fingers, he tapped them erratically against his knees and hunched forward into his chair, a stray melody from a long-forgotten concerto thrumming into his mind to fit the scene that was going to play out.

She wasn't laden with overtly murderous intent, but as one killer looking into the eyes of another, he knew that glint that brightened her eyes when she threatened the thug with a shank to the jugular. That glint was a familiar feature that greeted him in the mirror, but her's was very u_nique_.

He licked his lips and hapharzardly clasped his hands over his knees, sitting back in his chair as he pursed his lips in interest, chuckling a restrained wave of mirth that caused his Glasgow scar to pucker and squint his black-rimmed eyes. The crowd in the hall was building into a frenzy just as the hulking thug lunged a punch at the girl, who contorted in such a way that he actually sat up in his chair, watching as she did a handless cartwheel to maneuver out of the way and simultaneously kicked the dumb bastard in the jaw hard enough to stun him. Well well well…

Finally some entertainment!

It seemed the wildfire thought the same thing, as she fixed the Joker in the most burning glance he'd ever received from another human being; a glance that brought to life a force he admired in himself.

The joy of utter sadism.

This little sadist in the straightjacket and muzzle was relishing the violence, the odds of inflicting pain versus suffering pain. And he watched her dance along both lines, like a string-less marionette propelled by inherent rage and lust.

Now, he figured the spunky doll would be clocked out by the group of nuts that surrounded her like easy prey, but even a mad mind like him was surprised by the turn of events.

The thug dizzily reached to his flip flop, removing the shank embedded in the sole and extending it out like a switchblade. Bad form, baaad form! What a goddamned amateur-!

The fit of giggles that began to emanate from the string-less marionette crept up from the very depth of her soul, her shoulders shaking as her peels grew in pitch. The sound was as jarring as metal grinding against concrete, but still ever-so-_de_lectable.

"Lessee how much you'll laugh with this shank in your belly and my dick in your mouth, you fucking whore!" growled the thug before lunging at her, shank extended to rip into her belly.

"Here we go…" muttered the Joker under his breath, similar to a spectator on the edge of their seat, anticipating the final outcome.

He hadn't expected an improvised ballet. That was what came to mind when he watched the wildfire jerk out of the way just as the tip of the shank sunk into the thick hem of the jacket, spinning on her tip toes and propelling the shank to cut a gouging tear into her straightjacket the way a can opener slices through the top of a can. Risky, albeit resourceful, but risky when any more narrowly aimed could've cost her to slit her wrist, not to mention puncture her side. As a result, however, she only earned a raised graze to mar her arm and back, but, her arms where unbound and her smirk was squinting her eyes maniacally above her muzzle.

"Ahhhh" rolling her shoulders, she cracked her neck and rolled her hips. "Thankssss buddy!" she drawled lazily, as if she was stretching after a long nap. Then, the ballet continued, as she leapt in the air and bashed one of the other thugs in the head with roundhouse kick before driving her fist to smash another inmate in the throat.

Internally enthralled, the Joker cocked an eyebrow as she effortlessly killed one of the thugs with an up-thrust palm-hit that drove the cartilage in his nose up into his brain. The unlucky fellow dropped to the floor dead as a Bat-fake before she whirled around and went on the defensive from the shank-wielding thug. The other Arkham-ites were shouting, squealing, and wailing in the chaos, the intercom exploding into protocols and sirens that alerted the rest of the floor of the commotion. Sirens…he loved everything associated with them, but who would've thought such a crazy little siren would be the source of his most-appreciated sound.

And what a siren she was.

Growing impatient, the thug roared a shout as he slashed at the air around her, desperately trying to land a blow that would crumble her to the ground, but instead, he found himself back against the glass that divided the Joker from the rest of the fun. Then, in the most precise motion, the muzzled ballerina kicked the shank out of his hand to fly up into the air, where she caught it in mid spin and thrust, driving it into the aghast thug's jugular.

The gushing spray of blood hit her in the face and misted all over glass as he clutched at her hand, gasping and thrashing convulsively against the pressure of the plunging weapon. Ruthlessly, she twisted the shank into his windpipe, and watched him gurgle and gargle his final scream before letting him slide down the glass wall in his death throws.

Then, in the glow of crimson, he saw the siren's real beauty. She stood, covered in blood, her eyes foggy and drunk with bloodlust, staring into a faraway place locked in her head just as the riot guards burst past the blockade against the door and began filing into the room to subdue all the crazies.

Sitting in his chair, the Joker's tongue tugged at the corner of his mouth, his expression darkly riveted on the bloody marionette on the other side of the window. And then her eyes focused on him, as if noticing again. Her eyes brightened, and they were oh-sooo-_brilliant_ framed by the blood smears and wild hair.

Guards were shouting at her back, shotguns armed with rubber bullets pointed at her back as they roared at her to put her hands up. And her hands did go up, splaying against the glass as she leaned her forehead against it and gazed at him with such longing.

That stare sent a delicious tingle down his spine and tickled into his loins, earning a primal grumble to work its way up into his chest as he clawed his fingers up and down his thighs before sitting up the chair. Smacking his lips together, he absentmindedly grazed his teeth over his lower lip before dragging his tongue to wet the cracked and dry flesh.

"Well, daahrling…don't _you_ look fuuun-uh" he stated in a husky and mischievous tone, dragging 'fun' out before clenching his jaw tight down on the word.

Her head snapped up at his statement, the first time ever hearing his voice, enthralling and new to her, as she brightened from head to toe more so than when she had been in her state of bloodlust; the detail slightly shocked him, having figured this whole time that she knew who he was and had been admiring him as The Crown Prince of Crime, but now he realized her appreciation was on some other level that _he_ couldn't even guess.

The guards were growing antsy behind her, but were too scared to take her in for some reason. Was she a lifer? Had to be with such tension held in the mugs of the yelling guards.

"I heard you, Chris, Nolan…Just, relaaaax" she spoke up in a hissed drawl, her eyes fluttering in irritation as she stopped leaning against the glass. The guards immediately grew tenser, and unsurely lowered their weapons.

Her eyes focused on him even more than before, becoming hooded with something he couldn't read as she raised her long fingers to the glass and framed his face in a trail of blood before pushing off and whirling around to face the guards. The guards flinched slightly before advancing and securing her hands behind her back with handcuffs, only doing so however when she folded her hands behind her back.

The chaos in the room was replaced with asylum staff and guards taking heed of the patients, but all paused in their tracks to allow the bloody marionette and her escorts to walk towards the doors.

He watched avidly as she was whisked out the doors, his humor straining under his skin for release. Not since his last altercation with the Batman had he felt so manic with glee and intrigue.

Curiosity was always his favorite muse, but it didn't hold a candle to his love for Sadism. And by the _godsssss_, that feisty doll had plenty of it herself. Definitely wouldn't mind watching her dance again…or tying some strings on her and playing with her himself.

He'd have to think about it some more…not too hard with how hard up he was for excitement, and ex_cite_ him she _did_…

The Joker was uncharacteristically mum all the way back to his cell, a blessing Gary thanked and chose to appreciate as he secured the terrorist clown back into his cell, not knowing that compliance and _security_ were the furthest things from the truth for the near future as far as the glasgowed mastermind plotting to himself was concerned.

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THANKS FOR REEADING!

This chapter was tons of fun to write. It's my first time really writing 3rd person within the character's head, and I just hope I did it justice. I also hope I carried the Heath's Joker as authentically as a fangirl can lol Please review and let me know!!


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry for the long wait!! Hope you guys enjoy

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Chapter 3: A Bloody Transition

He wished he could retire. Damn his luck that he couldn't just yet! Not with _her_ as his charge. Just when it had quieted down, she HAD to act up. It was his goddamned luck…

For the last few days all Dr. Riley had on his desk was a quarterly report on the successful progress of the new Arkham wardrobe implementation, which was supposed to effectively designate the different levels of mentally unstable patients from one another. Orange jumpsuits with inmate's serial number tagged on the chest for low-level psychotics, and white hospital-issue shirt and pants with shoelace-less shoes for the very dangerous offenders. Straightjackets were issued to the crafty and the self-destructive, but only one inmate was issued a very unique set of apparel…

And that sociopathic deviant sat strapped in the bolted chair across from the stainless steel table he now slapped his stack of files onto before taking the seat across from her. She looked up lazily at him, her face obscured by the muzzle and her wild mane of hair.

"Hello, Gwen."

Tossing the hair out of her eyes, she leant back against the chair, the clicking of her tongue against the back of her teeth echoing in the brightly lit interview room. Inhaling between her teeth, she wheezed, "Hiiii~."

"Let's talk about yesterday" the doctor stated in a monotone as he flipped open one of the files, clicking his pen as he continued, "you were given 3 milligrams of Lorazepam, as well as an injection of Haloperidol after you were detained. Do you remember this?"

Her eyes narrowed at the question before rolling to the side in thought. "I remember the shower…'a highly potent neuroleptic with several uses, such as to counteract acute manic phases, acute psychosis, acute delirium,' and all other kinds of 'acutes'…I don't think haloperidol was necessary. And 3 milligrams of lorazepam…?" she cracks her neck before ending her faux drawl with, "Overkill, Doc Riley."

"No, Gwen, that would be what you did to inmate Haxting and Romero" he stated in his monotone, scribbling a report of his interview before it was even done. If his superior was going to snoop around his files, might as well give a decent-but-bullshit-report. "Now, please tell me what you remember from the situation."

Raising her brows at him, she whistled before chiming sardonically, "I remember Chris 'n Nolan taking me to shower off" she closed her eyes, savoring the memory of the cold torrent pouring over her head to cascade over her numb body. "…Remember how they packed me back up in this jacket and remember…Cindy pumping me with the lovely cocktail you prescribed."

Glancing at her over the rim of his bifocals, Dr. Riley frowned at her. "If I had prescribed it, you wouldn't be sitting up right now."

Gwen leant over the table as far as her restraints would allow her. "Does this mean more solitaire?? C'mon Doc Riley~" she chirped sadistically, her eyes looking glossy and bored. "It isn't my fault you're silly uniforms failed and the wrong guy was lumped in with us real—"

"Goddammit Gwen!" the doctor suddenly growled between clenched jaw, slamming his fist down on the table. He watched as her eyes squinted, an indication that she was grinning ear to ear. "Would you like a higher dosage? Is that it?!" he huffed in exasperation, watching as her eyes drained down to a stony quality. "Ah" he stated with a sour air of victory before scribbling down in his notes, "Good thing for you any higher dosage would make you incapable of higher brain function after several trials…"

The click of her tongue as a response.

"Let's go over some of your history, in case it's fuzzy" he fell back into his monotone, combing his hand through his peppered hair absently as he read through another file. "Aggravated assault on a staff member after you were denied your music listening privileges—"

"He turned off the radio while I was drawing" she hissed matter of factly.

"-Restricted to cell for a month after you snuck into the archives—"

"I was bored and I wanted something to read" she quipped in a drawl.

"-Numerous kills of both fellow inmates and security staff—"

"Accidents, on purpose, bored…and fun~" she chirped drowsily, tilting her head to stare comically when he glared at her.

Slapping the file closed on the table, Dr. Riley rubbed the bridge of his nose. " You're a lifer, Gwen. Why must you persist on causing trouble…"

"Because I'm not supposed to be _here_."

The statement earned his stoic glare. "For once, we agree."

"Then~" she smiled wide under her muzzle, "let me slip through the cracks~!" Leaning over the table, her eyes fluttered as she whispered cryptically, "you've done it once before."

He glowered at her for far too long before he gripped his pen, scribbling furiously with white knuckles onto the report as he muttered, "I'm having you prepped for electroshock scheduled by the beginning of next month. It'd be sooner, except the waitlist is a bit full as of late."

He felt the death glare. It was pure ice that shot down his spine and welled in the pit of his stomach. She was an animal, and he knew she could smell his fear, but took solace in the fact that she'd be zapped out of her bearings for the next good while. Collecting the folders and files, he stood up and turned for the door, knocking on the square window for the guard's attention before turning over his shoulder with an after thought.

"Oh, and you're dosage will remain the same. Try to forget this last week…well, I guess it won't be too much trouble" he remarked sharply before being buzzed out of the room.

The door slammed audibly, and Gwen set her jaw against the swell of manic fury that rose in her like a wave. Her mind tried to resist the urge to let it wash over her, conjuring a flurry of memories and flashes that could sooth her into a focal point of interest, when a face framed in runny crimson stood out like a mental slap. Tinged green hair…soot black eyes—and smeared red! All on a cracking white canvas of jaw, cheeks, nose and forehead riveting enough to wanna touch, let alone sketch. His mouth…the most enigmatic of all...Oh how she itched to draw…

She dimly realized the guards were unfastening her straps before she was hauled to her feet and dragged out the room.

Could she remember him long enough to sketch? Or was he going to fall into the quagmire of memories, flashes, urges, and pictures that was her mind.

The damned dosage. She knew it was keeping her scatter brained; knew it was the only thing keeping her from being agile enough to walk out of here—well not WALK out; more like disappear out like a shadow…like she hadn't done in years.

"In you go, Gwen" said the orderly who opened the door for the two guards who dragged her through the door into the dark cell.

Plopping her on her mattress-less bed, the guards hurriedly rushed out of the room before securing the door closed, locking it with a resounding thud that snapped her out of her reveries.

Bowing her head, she let her mind string pieces of thoughts and strategies before it could drift off against her will. The drug would have to be worked out…but that wasn't the problem. Straightjacket was synched custom to her, and the muzzle rubbed uncomfortably against her chin and jaw…some resourcefulness would be in order…

It was time for her to leave.

Gwen cocked her head as the jiggling key ring of the nurse dispensing the meds was chiming down the hall towards her. Ah…time to see if practice can make perrrrfect~!

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The boss was the scariest motherfucker he'd ever seen. Even after working for him for so long, and being one of the lucky guys to not go on his bank heists with him or end up in the pen at the Bat's hands, he still found the maniac wholly unpredictable. He never knew when he was serious or teetering along his sadistic comedy until he heard his voice dip three octaves down into a guttural growl…that's when he was the scariest, he thought.

But no matter how terrified he was of the boss, he would never turn his back on the man, for loyalty's sake more than just self-preservation's sake. That's why he figured the boss had dubbed him 'Slappy,' both because he could hold his own against a mob and because he made him "so slap-happy he wasn't a damn dummy!," as the boss once told him. He trusted the boss, not in the sense that he felt _safe_, but in the sense that he could believe his sensibilities over anyone else's.

So, when the boss told him his new gig would be moonlighting at Arkham asylum as an orderly, Rowan never thought to question or doubt the boss in the least. However, this didn't mean he completely understood the rationale, but he went along with it nonetheless.

He had been nervous about breaking into a doctor's office and rummaging through the file cabinets, but he had what he was told to retrieve and was now sprinting down the corridors of the department looking for the exit. Barreling through the double-doors, he almost plowed down a woman in a lab coat, but managed to grab her by the arm before she fell back on her ass.

"Oh damn-so sorry ma'am!" he stated quickly, trying to pull off the big, dumb, and clumsy routine so she wouldn't ask any questions.

Yanking her arm out of his grip and looking a little flustered, the woman in the schoolmarm heels and sloppily upturned blonde hair balanced the stack of files under her arm from spilling from their folders before straightening her chic glasses and directing a sharp, turquoise glare at the orderly. "Its doctor, but don't mind the nametag; no one around here seems to anyway…" she muttered haughtily under her breath before shaking her aggression off and giving the orderly a meek smile. "Sorry, just having 'one of those days.' No harm done!" she laughed self-consciously, stirring the rogue blonde curls that spilled out of her messy bun.

Plastering a charming smile, the tall and broad-shouldered man rubbed the back of his neck while taking the opportunity to tuck the folder he was carrying behind his back. "Yeah, I know the feeling Doc. So sorry" he said before holding the door open for her and letting her breeze past him before calling out, "have a nice day, Doctor-uh…"

"Quinzel, and you too!" she said over her shoulder before turning the corner and sprinting further down the department corridors.

Exhaling the breath he didn't know he was holding, Rowan made down the hall as inconspicuously as possible, tucking the folder into the back of his belt and covering it with his uniform shirt before heading to his next task.

It was time to distribute the lunch trays up in Maximum Security.

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"I'm having serious doubts about your…methods with this patient, Dr. Riley. To be frank, I'm not satisfied with the level of psychosis the patient still experiences even with these capsulated cocktails you've concocted."

This man was such a sanctimonious bastard! How dare he question him now when he's turned a blind eye for a decade?! He had some gall calling him to his office so suddenly, as if he was some quack being brought in front of a one-man tribunal. He was such a pompous narcissist—

"Dr. Riley, I do believe I wasn't being rhetorical; I expect an answer" Dr. Bartholomew, the chief of medicine at Arkham Asylum, stated contumely as he brought his hands together in a tight clasp over his immaculately detailed mahogany desk, a desk that made Jeremiah Arkham's accommodations paltry in comparison.

Setting his jaw in a stoic regard towards his superior, Dr. Riley responded matter of factly, "with all due respect sir, while my methods might not be 100% effective in sedating the patient, I have been the only caretaker placed to her case that has shown any results—"

"You've also been the only one so eager to remain on her case" interjected Dr. Bartholomew, sitting back in his plush chair and regarding the other man the way an owl picks apart its prey before ever attacking. "To be frank, you wouldn't even be in my office at this moment if it wasn't at the behest of Lyle Bolton. He is none the happier over the fiasco that went on last week—"

"Sir, that man is a Machiavellian brute. He fails to understand that the trial and error stage of the security implementations are solely his responsibility, not mine, or any other staff member who signed onto the project as overseers interdepartmentally. As for the 'patient' Gwen—"

"Excuse me, Dr. Bartholomew, but I must speak to you about inmate #4479—oh! I'm so sorry! I wasn't aware—" stated in an almost unexhausted breath the overzealous junior psychiatrist, her eyes widening in embarrassment when both sullen-faced men glared her down from her position at the door she just bolted through unannounced. "Your receptionist wasn't at her station, so I assumed…"

Sighing in practiced irritation, Dr. Bartholomew directed an icy glance at the bright-eyed woman with the rogue blonde strands before fanning through his itinerary. "Dr. Quinzel" he stated monotonely as he glanced at Dr. Riley, silently excusing him from the rest of their meeting so that he could ream the impetuous woman in private. "Please come in. This is as good a time as any to go over protocol once more…"

Dr. Riley didn't pity the woman. After all, she'd been making waves the minute she was hired on by the board, and one thing he hated was someone making waves. He didn't need another ambitious upstart wiggling in and jerking everyone around, so he was pleased that most of the administration felt implicitly the same as him.

He briskly barged into his office, avoiding his secretary's memos and plopped into his chair, glaring at nothing in particular for a few minutes before deciding it would do him some good to call out early for the day.

"Alice, hold my appointments over until tomorrow. I'm heading home."

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The elevator doors ground open onto the catwalk that divided the medical ward of the hospital from the Maximum Security wing. Pushing the cart loaded with bland food trays, he began to steel himself before giving his clearance to the guard booth and gaining access to Arkham's most dangerous inmates. As he entered the wing, Rowan trained his gaze straight ahead of him, trying to avoid eye contact with the dozens of dark stares that glanced out on him through the reinforced glass walls and doors.

He quickly worked his way down the main corridor, anxiety knotting in his stomach as he neared the corner. Swiping the access key to open the tray slot to slip the food into one cell, Rowan ignored the glazed, bloodshot blue eyes that stared unblinkingly at him from the darkened corner of the cell. For the millionth time, he thanked the powers that be for keeping him obscure in the Gotham underworld…

He moved on around the corner, his cart mostly emptied but for a few trays. Avoiding one of the security cameras as he maneuvered around the cart, he skillfully pulled out the concealed folder and slipped it under the food tray he grabbed from the bottom of the cart.

Now he walked with stoic resolve around the corner to the inmate of the hour.

The Joker sat against the wall of his cell, one leg sprawled out with the other acting as an armrest for his forearm. He was staring with hooded eyes at the far wall, his white face paint cracked and brushed away from most of his face, black eyes smeared as far up as his hairline, red lips chapped and worn from his absent-minded chewing and laving.

When the swipe of his key beeped the tray slot open, Rowan felt the Joker's eye's slowly drag to the corners of his vision in dark regard, watching the faux-orderly as he slipped the tray and the concealed folder into the cell.

The pair regarded each other in silence before Rowan nodded and went back to his cart, trying hard to ignore the chill at the back of his neck. He quickly finished the rest of his task and moved toward the exit, worried at what his next orders would be…and unbelievably curious at what the boss would want with those files!

No matter what the reason, he knew that getting the files BACK into the doctor's office when the boss was done was going to be even more challenging than getting them out…

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He slapped his lips together, wetting the cracked flesh with his tongue as he made his way to the tray. Sliding the tray to the side, he grabbed the folder and grunted an amused noise before plopping onto his bed, facing the wall so that any peepers could only see his back.

Dropping the thick folder into his lap, the Joker raised a brow at how bound it was, paper clips pinned all over it to keep the files from spilling out. Slapping the folder open, he chuckled musingly to himself. He slid a small manila envelop of pictures to one side as he skimmed over the patient's medical history and information.

"Mmmm…unknown, unknown-and un_known_?" his brows furrowed at the documents he was reading as the tip of his tongue tugged at the corner of his mouth absently. The preliminary patient information was stamped with a bold "unknown" for every category. No real name, background information, or even a history chart prior to 10 years before. Then at the bottom of the page he read the typewritten font: "Known Alias: Gwen".

Very interesting...not like any chart he'd seen before. Even _his _chart had more dirt than this. He surmised that her file hadn't been updated in format since she was admitted, but still…

"Oh-hohoh now what is this" his sing song whisper trailed off as he ruffled through and came upon a paper clipped stack of incident reports. Now he was getting somewhere.

He read avidly, and after a few minutes cackled a laugh before immediately shushing himself and chuckling.

_The inmate viciously mauled a fellow inmate for allegedly threatening to destroy her personal sketchpad. The victim suffered massive neck, ear and nose damage after inmate bit down into and gnarled the skin. Muzzle has been advised until further notice. _

He read on further, suppressing grunts and chuckles and spells of mirth with every line. A few incidents had him rolling and howling in mirth, forcing him to snicker through his yellow teeth and snort to himself the more he read.

The reports painted a picture of the little marionette that slowly developed into a macabre string of scenes in his head. Scenes that filled in fun blanks and scenarios of what kind of playmate she'd be if given the chance. The more he read, the more his mind wandered over the possibilities…

Slapping the folder closed, he huffed a little note of jollity, ready to play with his food and make a little smiley face with the green bean stalks, powdered potatoes, and mashed corn bits, when the small manila folder on his knee slipped off to thwack onto the folder. Raising a brow and sucking in his bottom lip, he opened the flap and shook the stack of polaroids into his hand.

Her unconscious countenance was plastered on the first Polaroid. The date on the picture was around 10 years ago. Her lip was split and swollen, discolored bruises riddled her face and dark circles bagged her eyes. She looked like the embodiment of grief.

The next few pictures documented the scars etched on her body. Many were along her back and sides, faint but still noticeable to a trained eye. Others were more intriguing. Well, one in particular, that is. He held this specific Polaroid up and marveled at the scar, his eyes squinting in curiosity at what kind of knife made it. One thing he knew for sure was that whoever made it was a vicious bastard. The knife and gone in vertical, and was _twisted_ before slicing across her womb. While most would think it marred her body, the Joker thought it accentuated it; her tight navel and lithe torso looked delectable if not ravage-worthy with the scar standing out like a path that only tracing one's lips across could do it justice.

Most of the pictures were taken while she was unconscious. They documented almost every part of her body, save for the gratuitous areas he'd been hoping to see. He flipped through the stack and stopped at one picture of her sitting Indian style in a padded room, giving a sidelong glance at something out of the shot, her lips quirked in a comical smirk, with most of her face obscured by her long dark hair.

He snorted as he shoved the pictures back into the manila folder and tossed it into the folder.

His mind was in a frenzy of ideas, thoughts, speculations, curiosities, and intrigue. Most were frivolous, but others developed into grandeur machinations. Running his hand through his greasy green hair, he licked his cracked lips and decided it wouldn't hurt to let his thoughts continue to wander over the little minx in the straightjacket.

At the very least, the little puppet would be fun to play with…

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Anxiety and adrenaline had been pumping through his veins all day in anticipation. The hour was near, and all Rowan knew was that this place was going to be flipped upside down by the crazies. It was disconcerting to think of what would happen if he was cornered by a group of maniacs, let alone if the bust went…well, bust. He hadn't been to prison yet, which was a big help in landing the job at the asylum. But he knew what hell was like, and getting caught was a one way ticket to one level of hell.

Everything was set. During the lunch round, the timers would go off, the guard in the switch station would unlock the doors and the asylum would be plunged into chaos. It was an ingenious strategy, but a bitch to execute from the inside of a cell. The Joker was one crazy-smart motherfucker…

"Hey man, you're scheduled for Maximum Security again. Start loading things up and making your way up there" a portly supervisor roused him out of his thoughts before he nodded in compliance and headed out of the locker room.

The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up and his stomach was tied in knots. As if busting out the Joker from Arkham wasn't a feat that had him nervous as fuck, the boss wanted to bust out that wild child from his first shift about a month ago. Her wild eyes and fluid mannerism had creeped him out, and having watched her on the security monitor in the guard's booth when she went berserk, Rowan was quite frankly perturbed at the idea of wrangling one psychotic to be the plaything for another.

It was too late to back out. Everything was in motion and all Rowan needed to do was brace himself for the wave of anarchy. For the hundredth time, his stomach churned in anxiety…

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_I'm so thirsty...my insides hurt…it has to be today...if I hold out any longer, I'll be too weak to even struggle._

Her eyes flickered drowsily open, the dim light penetrating into her cell harsh to her retinas. Heaving herself up from her sprawl on the floor, Gwen huffed behind her muzzle and licked her chapped lips. The dehydration was an unforeseen side effect to her detox of the cocktail which had usually abated her appetite as well. The meager rations given to her once a day wasn't enough to sustain her rabid metabolism, leaving her aching from stomach cramps and having to feign docility regardless of the pain.

It has to be today.

Her mind was sharp now. The muddle induced by the cocktail was a distant memory, but the chaos of her mind had never dissipated. Nevertheless, her mind was agile and skipping from scenario to scenario, trying to figure out when it would be best to strike and make her escape. The fact that the electroshock therapy appointment was looming days away also made her eager to end the rouge and escape…no matter how much her sadist muse told her she should play a game that ended with good old Dr. Riley choking on his own blood.

The image made her giggle and instantly she hissed from the sting of her parched bottom lip cracking. She laved the wound with her tongue, the taste of blood bringing back an overload of memories from the recesses of her mind. Some were clear and vibrant, others overshadowed and hazy with time.

A light chuckle echoed through her memories before receding back into the mire. His voice…it was melodious and conserved, like a rich tenor note echoing up to the ceiling. It was gone! No matter how much she tried to grab onto the memory of Him it always faded away. The flashes of Him during the many years of her confinement here were blissful rays of light that stupefied the chaos within her.

Biting down on her lip in anger, she let the shrill pain sober her mind. Just in time too, as the clinking and chiming of keys started making it way down the corridor towards her cell door. Sitting with her feet tucked under her, Gwen slacked the rest of her body against the wall, as she would normally if still under the influence of the potent narcotics. She rested her chin against her chest, looking listless in order to conceal the very small tear in the seam that connected the strip of thick cloth down the center of her jacket, in which her arms where looped and fastened.

The key was shoved into the lock, and the door ground open with a rusted groan. Gwen slowly looked at Mike the orderly as he stepped aside to let Arlene the still wet behind the ears nurse come into the cell with her daily ration. Arkham always served her a quarter to lunch, just to get her and any other psychopath who needed more than one attendant dealt with without hampering the regular lunch hour routine.

"Hello Gwen, dear…" the woman with hazel eyes said as she briskly walked into the cell, nodding for Mike to close the door partially, so as to let the badly-lit dungeon of a room get some needed light. She carried a tray and a chart, one balanced in her hand and the other cradled in the crook of her arm. "How's my favorite patient doing?" she remarked facetiously as she crouched down and placed the tray by Gwen while she dug in her scrubs for a small flashlight.

Gwen was unresponsive and seemed to be staring blankly at the nurse. However, she'd surveyed Arlene since she walked in, and while she was disappointed that the pen was clipped to the board of her report, she was itching with glee at the boneheaded break with protocol the nurse was surely going to get reamed and fired for later…if she survived that is.

"Okay dear, can you look up for me?" she asked, clicking the mini flashlight on and holding up to flash it in her eyes and see the reaction. Gwen didn't move, forcing the woman to crouch closer so she could run the light across her eyes and see how her pupils refused to contract and remained dilated. "Hmmm. Well I hope you're hungry? Brought you some yummy gruel…if you can call this slop anything…" the woman with the frizzy hair and freckles mumbled as she dropped the flashlight back into her pocket and reached for the tray, sliding it closer to her. The glint of steel utensils made her lips tighten, realizing her mistake; glancing at the drugged out woman, she played it off as nothing and picked up the fork and plate.

Gwen's lips twitched as she was relieved of her muzzle. The other woman didn't notice, nor did she notice how Gwen eyed the knife resting idly on the tray still.

"Open up, dear" Arlene cajoled, with no response. "C'mon girl, you need to eat" and still no response from the catatonic woman. "Sigh…dammit. Mike! I'm going to need help in here; this girl might be in insulin shock."

The door yawned open wider and the disgruntled blah-faced orderly frowned into the room. "Goddammit Arlene she can't be in insulin shock. She's being a pain in the ass—dammit you're going to get written up again!" Mike glowered as he stomped past the threshold of the cell door.

It happened before either of them could say another word.

In a flash of agility, Gwen had hopped up on the balls of her feet and slammed her bound shoulder into Arlene's solar plexus, knocking the wind out of her and causing her to slam against the far wall. Free of her muzzle but still bound, Gwen flopped down in front of the tray and snaked the handle-side of the knife to her lips before clamping her teeth down on the weapon.

Just as Mike's adrenaline began to pump into his bloodstream, Gwen rolled to her back and flipped up to her feet, advancing at the aghast orderly who fumbled backwards out of the cell. Before he could turn to run, however, Gwen leapt at him like a jungle cat, pouncing down on him and driving the blunt knife just under his jawline and short of his jugular. The man fell to the ground hard, his scream choked with blood as Gwen pulled the knife out and was hit with a sickening spray of blood in her face. The man reached out to push her off, but before he could muster his motor skills Gwen's lethal mouth descended and plunged the knife into his corroded artery, causing another gush of blood to spray all over before she forced the blunt metal to twist across his throat like a rusty can opener trying to force its way through thick aluminum.

His tremors and eyes went dead under her. Gwen tilted her head and marveled at the expression she hadn't scene in over a month.

The sound of hyperventilating snapped her head back towards the mouth of her dungeon. Arlene was having a panic attack, if not a nervous breakdown as she sat stupidly inside the cell, frozen in utter horror. Gwen stood up off Mike's corpse and turned to face the cell. Spitting the bloody knife out, she cracked her neck and blotted her chapped lips with the saliva-slick blood that dripped off her mouth and dribbled down her chin before smiling at the woman.

"Gee Arlene! You really look like you need to see a doctor" she chirped hoarsely from her parched throat, hooking the tips of her toes around the door as she added, "don't worry, I'll go get you one! Stay RIGHT here~!"

The woman screamed as the door was slammed shut with a deafening boom, an amusing combination of sounds that had Gwen snorting as she glanced down both ends of the corridor before skipping off in a wobbly prance down towards the closest stairwell, humming a disjoined series of melodies just as a series of alarms started to go off from the floors above…

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The fire alarm went off, forcing the congregation of doctors and staff to roll their eyes at yet another damned fire drill. They shuffled down the halls towards the emergency exits, idly chatting and uninterested in the immediacy of the exercise when the Code Red sirens started flashing and whooping throughout the asylum. Staff members looked at each other in incredulity and horror before a melee for the exits began.

Harleen was rushing down a narrow corridor as several doctors and nurses bumped into her and drove her stack of forms and files out of her hands to scatter all over the floor.

"Run you twit! It's a Code Red!" One of them shouted back at her without stopping their mad dash.

Wide eyed and trembling, Harleen pressed her back against the wall and looked about her, too scared to make the run to the exit down 3 corridors and 4 hallways from her position. She knew she had to barricade herself somewhere and soon.

Just as she started making her frenzied run down the corridor the emergency lockdown of the psychiatric wing went into effect, trapping her in a hallway with no hope of getting out until the police came in and got her out. Sinking to the floor, she huffed a shaky breath and cursed under her breath.

"God damned if I don't hear the end of this…"

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The glass door beeped and slid to the side before he clasped his hands together in sadistic glee and stepped out of his cell. He chuckled a series of melodic notes before grinning and clamping his hand down on Rowan's shoulder.

"Slappy my boy, don't look so glu**m**!" he sneered sardonically at the chisel-jawed man with the worried look in his hazel grey eyes. "Everything in life is a learning experience" he continued as he shouldered the man against him, making him stiffen. "What doesn't _kill_ you makes you **stron**_grrrr_" he growled before clamping his jaw down on the word.

"Absolutely boss" was all he could muster before the sociopathic clown let him go and waltzed crookedly down the walkway.

Rowan went into renegade mode, running interference for the Joker as he surveyed the other inmates in their glass cells comically as if he was glancing at animals in a zoo. He stopped in front of one cell, blinking childlike at the bloodshot cold glare he received from Crane, who glowered at him from the shadows. Pressing against the glass, the Joker frowned at him, mocking him by gesturing with his index fingers that he needed to smile more before bursting into a cacophony and waving 'bye bye'.

The alarms were hollering and the roar of chaos was taking over the asylum, a lovely transition from the gloom and boredom of the past month. Pretty soon the place would be rocked to its foundation, and he pumped his fists at his sides in excitement.

"Boss! Should we let the others out?" Rowan inquired in a monotone, his steely tenor terse and hard.

Looking with an air of disinterest, the Joker shrugged his shoulders. "I don't like competition, Slappy. Let Crane and his former cronies _rot_" he stated as he waved dismissively at the rest of the Maximum Security ward.

As both men made their way out, the first explosion shook the world around them and the familiar sensation made the Joker shiver and whoop a stream of cackles before grinning twistedly.

"Gotta make one quick stop before we exit, Slappy."

The calm and jovial tone disarmed the muscular henchmen, but he still gave a curt nod and led the way down the bowels of the asylum, heading for the main level to regroup with the other men.

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As soon as he flicked the switch, the loonies poured out of their minimum security cells to rage outward, attacking staff and guards and giving Bumbles enough time to meet the boss at the bottom of the main level. Yanking his clown mask on, he barreled through the maniacs and secured the gate that sectioned off the stairwell and elevator from the main corridor.

Their exit was in the process of detonating still.

The ding of the elevator snapped his attention to see the doors open and reveal Slappy and the boss, who was grinning so hard his glassgow was puckering along his cheekbones.

"She's in the underground ward, boss. We can access it through that adjacent corridor" Slappy stated factually while the henchmen disguised as a guard tossed him a mask and a modified glock. "She's going to be a handful, sir" he added as a sudden afterthought, looking over his shoulder at the Joker as he tugged his mask on at the same time.

"A handful is never a ba**d** thing, Slappy" he quipped as they made their way down the corridor and ended up in a hall with multiple corridors.

"FREEZE!" the barked command was weak, earning an amused snort from the Joker while the other men pointed their weapons at the guard.

He stood just out from the corner of a large corridor, his gun pointed at the Joker's head. Clicking the safety off, the guard knew if he didn't shoot, he wasn't leaving the place alive.

Then something moved in his peripheral vision just down the corridor to his right. He jerked his head toward the movement just in time to see the terrifying woman leap into the air before pouncing down on him.

His shot went wild causing the three men to take cover. When they heard the man's shout choke, the watched as Gwen summersaulted off of him and crushed his windpipe, stomping repeatedly down until the man choked on his own tongue to death.

She was just coming off her bloodlust when she realized she was being stared at.

Blinking, Gwen turned to face the three clowns, yelping in surprise.

Then recognition set in, and she avidly stared back at the man with the fading mask and dark eyes that bore alluring at her.

Sobering, Gwen felt herself gravitating to the man once again as another explosion caused the walls and ground to lurch.

"Slappy, help the little minx would ya?" the Joker spoke in a gruff husk and was obeyed immediately.

Too dazed at the enigmatic man to care, Gwen was hauled up into Slappy's arms and the group began to run down to the south wing, where smoke and rubble scattered and plumed around them.

The haze made her eyes water and sting. Before she knew it, she was in the back of a van with other masked men before it lurched into a high speed getaway. Skidding into cold metal of the van, Gwen found herself flung next to the man with the dark eyes. She was so close to him that the contours of his smeared and scarred mouth caught her off guard.

"Now doll, it's not _nice_ to stare-uh" the amused hiss forced her to look back up into his eyes.

"But it's so hard not to."

Now it was the Joker's turn to blink in surprise. Raising his brows, he let his humor warm up his throat, licking his lips and prodding at the corner of his mouth with the tip of his tongue as he surveyed her more clearly.

Her mouth was smeared with blood, some of which still dribbled along her chin and down her jaw. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, her eyes brilliant and excited.

"Boss, we managed to slip the cops!"

"Fine, good, yes you know where to go now don'**t** interrupt me!" he snapped at the man in the frowning clown mask. When the van's cab went tensely silent, he leaned closer to her, and muttered convivially, "Now my dear, if it's not too _hard _for you, can you tell me your name, hmm?"

Matching his muttered tone, she said in a hushed voice, "Gwen…do I call you boss too??"

Flashing his yellowed teeth in a sardonic laugh, he provocatively answered, "Only if I tell you to, puppet."

TBC

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	4. Chapter 4

So sorry for the long wait! Hope this chapter quenches your thirsts for mayhem and citrus lol

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Chapter 4: Eager Mischief

"**How the HELL could this have happened**!??!"

"You best check your tone with me, Dr. Riley—!"

"First you have the **audacity** to scapegoat the staff for **your** failures, and now you let this whole goddamned place fall into anarchy?! What in the hell were you thinking Bolton!?" Dr. Riley growled at the man he was standing nose to nose with.

"Are you **questioning **my _methods _Riley?! You better watch what you say before you

really dig yourself into a whole!"

"Gentlemen! I think this is an exercise in futility and not at all what I need for my investigation, so I suggest you check yourselves and sit down!" Commissioner Gordon managed to cajole sternly, taking a seat and gesturing for them to do the same.

When both men sat down, he continued in briefing them. "So all the inmates were accounted for, except for the Joker and this woman" he stated, the weary wear of exhaustion creeping into his eyes. "Is she considered to be in danger?"

Bolton snorted, "Huh, that woman _is_ danger, Commissioner. Riley over here can vouch for that much."

Curtly nodding, Riley resigned himself to keeping mum unless directly asked.

Commissioner Gordon sat back in his chair with a terse sigh. "I'm going to need all her records. I need next of kin, aliases, former associates, everything you've got on her. It's imperative that I know what to expect from the Joker and any accomplices he has."

Riley raised a brow at the last part. "The records you can have, but I'm afraid they won't provide anything of use to your investigation."

"Well it's my understanding that you've been her caretaker for the last 10 years doctor, so surely you can provide some information on this patient." Gordon's scrutinizing stare was stern, earning Riley's reluctant nod.

"I'd like to speak with you in private about this case, commissioner."

Glancing at Lyle Bolton, the commissioner signaled that he was free to leave.

Once the two men were left in the briefing room, the commissioner glanced at the double-sided mirror as if silently communicating something to the inhabitants on the other side. The intercom buzzed twice, letting him know that they were leaving the room so that it was truly a one on one interrogation.

"Dr. Riley, is your patient connected to the mob?" Gordon spoke so abruptly and straight to the point that the doctor was disarmed by the inquiry.

"N-no, not at all! That isn't the issue…"

"Then what is?" the commissioner found his response troubling.

Looking up into Gordon's eyes from across the table, Riley set his jaw and gathered his hands from his lap to the top of the table.

"Gwen is very dangerous, commissioner. She is in no way susceptible to intimidation, but she is easily influenced by individuals she deems worthy of her time and loyalty. In the 10 years I've treated her, she has never abated in her mania or her desire to cause chaos. But that in itself is only part of the issue."

Scowling, Gordon leant over the table to ask in a tense tone, "You just told me she's a psychopath who can be manipulated by Gotham's most insane criminal. What else could be the issue?"

A tense silence hung over the room before Dr. Riley sat back in his chair. His eyes were cold when he stated, "Gwen is destructive, sadistic, child-like, provocative, and frighteningly intelligent. She's been here for 10 years, and not once has she ever tried to escape. She has gotten out of her cell dozens of times, and was completely capable of escaping the asylum, but she never did. Do you know why, commissioner?"

Gordon's expression grew perplexed. "I don't, doctor."

"Because she's been waiting for someone" he stated matter of factly before adding, "she could have escaped, but she chose not to. To her, there was no need to escape because there was nothing she wanted to do. She's been waiting for someone to spark her interests…and I'm afraid the Joker is the person who did it."

The ramifications of the doctor's statement sent a chill down Gordon's spine. Standing from his chair, he paced the room, contemplating just how the hell he was going to anticipate the Joker when he had such a dangerous pawn at his disposal.

"Doctor, I'm going to need those files" he finally stated before turning to give the doctor an intense glance. "If she is as dangerous as you say, I'm going to have to put out the warning to all my men."

"Of course, commissioner…I'll get right on it and please contact me if you need anything else."

As Riley got up to go to the door, he felt the tension in his shoulders creep down into his gut. He couldn't very well disclose everything, but he knew he had to cooperate or risk getting found out.

"Dr. Riley, one last thing."

Freezing at the doorway, Riley turned to look over his shoulder at the commissioner.

"Bolton mentioned something about birds of a feather hunting together. He seemed very irate about the fact that any prisoner escaped under his watch, but there was something about his reference…"

"I'm afraid I don't quite follow, commissioner."

Shaking his head in a dismissive way, Gordon replied, "I guess just too much stress and caffeine, doctor. Please, if you can think of anything that could be helpful, contact me."

"Of course, commissioner."

The commissioner of Gotham City watched the man leave the room. He sensed that he knew more than he was disclosing, but he hoped that the files would tell the story for the doctor. If not, he could only imagine how dark the woman's history was.

He had more pressing matters than this woman, however. The Joker was out and god help him he didn't know how he was going to stop him this time. With the anarchy he created only a few months ago, the Joker had been able to destroy any sense of hope and justice, and now with the Batman as an outlaw himself, Gordon was at a loss.

One thing he knew for sure was that at this very moment while he was doddling helplessly, the Joker was regrouping and preparing to turn Gotham inside out once again…

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"…her up…little minx passed out…didn't even get to wear her out properly…"

"…think she's dehydrated boss…should I cut her loose?"

"…take care of her, Slappy…going to get into my Sunday's bes**t**…"

The strings of dialogue were edging into her awareness as she was coming back from her unconsciousness. She felt herself get hauled by the front of her straight jacket into a sitting position before the straps were sliced off one by one. The room echoed, and the floor was cold concrete. A faint scent of blood and decay hung in the damp room.

"Hey, you awake?" the henchmen asked as he shook her. "C'mon stand up for me." She was yanked up to her feet before the straight jacket was tugged off of her. When her arms were freed, she immediately gripped the taller man's shoulder to regain her balance as she shook her daze away. She looked up when she felt him flinch.

The clown mask with the mocking grin plastered in runny green paint greeted her. Arching a brow, she looked around and realized she was in some sort of meat-packing locker.

"The boss wants you to clean up" the henchmen muttered, snapping her glassy glaze back on him. "Strip and get under that spray…I'll snap the water on" he stated carefully as she eyed him stoically. Just when he thought she was going to tear his jugular out, she let go of his shoulder and wandered over to where cuts of beef would've been sprayed down and kept clean in the locker.

As she went, she stripped off her bloodied hospital tank top and yanked off her shorts, leaving her naked save for the blood stains that caked her mouth, neck and chest. Rowan noticed the clatter of little white gel capsules that had fallen out from between her cleavage once she stripped the shirt off. Picking up the straight jacket and inspecting it, he noticed the little tear just in the arm loop seam where she had been slipping her meds through.

Noticing how she looked up at the water sprayer in anticipation, Rowan tossed the jacket and turned the nozzle. The water slowly trickled down on her before becoming a steady spray. He watched as she wiped her mouth of the blood and proceeded to greedily guzzle the water. As she drank directly from the cascading spray, she rinsed her body off before running her fingers through her long hair to get out all the caked blood and tangles.

He watched her with cautious trepidation, not having been afraid of a woman ever before.

The heavy door leading into the room slammed and startled him. "Like what you see, Slappy?" He jerked his head around to face the Joker who was back to his trademark attire and war paint.

"She's crafty boss…managed to avoid taking her meds and hid them in her top, even with the straightjacket on" he answered instead and looked back at the woman showering off.

When the Joker didn't respond or quip back, he glanced at him and saw how he watched Gwen. Her eyes were closed as she let the water rain down on her head, turning to face them and wringing her hair out. The scar on her belly was jagged and prominent, a coarse etch on her tan skin that the Joker was currently fixatedly staring at.

"Leave us, Slappy."

He didn't have to be told twice. Rowan nodded and left the locker, leaving the Joker to stare at her before he shut the nozzle off and strutted over to her.

When the water stopped, she opened her eyes and blinked up at the sprayer. "Feeling better, puppet?"

Her gaze snapped to the Joker, as if she just realized he was standing there in all his glory. She blinked at him in awe at his rejuvenated canvas before she closed the distance between them and reached for his face.

Instinctively, the Joker grabbed her hand and frowned at her before brusquely pulling her against him. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to _stick_ your fingers in people's wounds, hmm?!" he snarled, his eyes flaring with hostility.

Not at all startled, Gwen looked up into his dark eyes and smiled. "But you have _such_ a _lovely_ wound, I don't think any mother would mind if I touched…"

Huffing through his nose, the Joker glared at her out of the corners of his eyes. "_Be_ that as it **may**… next time, I might not let you keep these fingers, doll" he hissed as his temper quelled and he smiled sadistically at her and chomped his teeth together for emphasis before releasing her fingers.

She giggled. _Giggled_ at him! The noise was so pleasant that it sent conflicting sensations down his spine.

His eyes wandered all over her naked body once more, watching as her full breasts quivered with her mirth and how her taut stomach tensed, making her scar ever the more alluring to him.

There was no question. He was going to enjoy every minute he had with the little marionette until she bored him into homicide.

"As much as I'd like to keep you in your birthday suit, darling, I don't think you'd like the cold and the _leers_" he remarked convivially to her before tipping her chin up and cutting her giggles off. "I feel like window shopping and trouble making" he stated before chuckling at his own joke.

She started giggling again, as if she understood his meaning. Instead, she was just thrilled that he seemed to be planning all sorts of fun things for her to do…

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With the holidays only weeks away, the Gotham City Mall was packed with shoppers hunting for the best gifts and burning off the stripes on their credit cards. The mall had every chain brand, boutique, and shop a shopper could need and an array of utterly unnecessary ones too. At this time in the afternoon, the sunlight was dimming from the dome glass ceiling above the mall's center and much of the rush was dying down to window shoppers and bargain hunters.

A few security guards were in charge of keeping perimeters, but nothing out of the ordinary was seen on the security monitors. That is, aside from the thugs that were suddenly chaining all the emergency exits closed from the inside corridors. Mack, the head of surveillance, went to call it in when the dull roar of gunfire began to ring out throughout the mall.

His door was kicked open and he was knocked unconscious before getting dragged out to the corridor and being tied up with some other security guards.

"All secure here" one of the clown-masked thugs wired back over his com. An affirmative response crackled in his ear before he nodded at the other thugs and went back into the surveillance room.

Quickly, the thug went to work on locking down the rest of the mall, tripping the panic system on. Disabling the alarm, he went to work on patching all the video cameras out to the parking lots and all the entrances, watching as all the lockdown gates fell and closed any escape for the mall hostages and thwarted the cops from getting in.

"We're locked down tight" he confirmed over his com, sitting back to watch the chaos on the dozens of monitors.

All the hostages were being corralled around the main plaza of the mall, which overlooked the elaborate fountain that sat just bellow the glass dome. Men in clown masks were shouting and terrorizing shoppers in all directions as the Joker wandered around the store fronts with his hands behind his back and a frugal expression on his face.

His carefree airs made him stand out in the terror and violence occurring around him as he stopped to look into a particular store window. The trinket and bobble store had all kinds of useless and decorative heirlooms, so he let his eyes wander over the meaningless crap.

"Can I window shop with you?"

The light-hearted tone caught his attention away from the store. He looked at Gwen with a wickedness that tickled the shadows of his eyes. Wrapped up in his long purple trenchcoat, her damp hair cascaded over the coat's shoulders and beyond, making her look like a comical wraith.

"Of course you can!" he drawled with a sweet drip in his tone, pulling her to his side and scooting her around to stand in front of him. "After all, you gave me the idea, **sweet**s" he continued against her ear as he propped his forearms to hang over her shoulders. "I saw something in the back of this store that _screams_ you, doll. If you're a goo**d** girl for me I might pick it u**p** for you."

Smiling against his arm, she smelled his scent before turning to face him suddenly. "I don't have any money, though" she chirped up in doubt, her brows arching in a child-like way that took him a minute to distinguish as genuine.

His tongue darted out to lave the corner of his mouth before his glassgow pulled into a wide smirk that didn't quite reach his dark eyes. "_Ah_, don't worry about it-uh. The city's footing the bill. Just go on and pick out whate**ver** you'd like. I suggest you grab a wardrobe or two. Something _cute_ and **tight** would be _nice_" he grinned at her before turning them both to the chaos.

He signaled Rowan over and shoved Gwen into his chest. "Escort my puppet to get some clothes. I've got some more window shopping to **do**" he instructed to Slappy and watched him nod and lead Gwen away.

She looked around Slappy to give the Joker a heated look that sent a jolt down his spine. He chuckled to himself and waved her away with an encouraging expression. Reassured, she latched off of Slappy and ran ahead of him, darting from one store to another. The Joker hummed to himself as he continued down the shops, spotting just what he'd been looking for in a home appliance store.

Meanwhile, Gwen ran into one store and another, looking at all the things like they were too expensive to even breathe on before quickly snatching up the things that caught her eye. Rowan had to stuff his handgun in the back of his jeans when she started accumulating bags upon bags of things that were hastily made by the few store clerks he found hobbling in fear in each shop.

Most of the shoppers, however, were corralled and zippy-tied together in circles where they were forced to clench live grenades into their shaking hands, deterring many from making any sudden moves or trying to play hero, let alone escape. When Gwen skipped into another store, Rowan glanced around quick enough to spot the Joker among the hysterical crowds and henchmen, a digital camcorder swinging around in his hand.

A shout of pain caught his attention back to the store Gwen had gone into. He rushed in to find her kicking a security guard they had missed in the sweep down to the floor after snapping his wrist in three places. He glanced around to find a few goth-punk sales girls cowering behind the racks and register, and realized he was in the trendy emo-kid store. Gwen left the guard crumbled next to the cosmetics wall as she picked up his handgun and effectively dismantled the gun by ejecting the magazine and sliding the upper barrel case off. She dropped the useless firearm to the ground and wandered over to a rack of lingerie.

Her brows knitted together, utterly confused at what was what and how to wear it. She glanced at Rowan the way a child would silently ask 'how do I do this?'

Tossing the shopping bags down, Rowan went over and grabbed the closest goth girl with a nametag and yanked her up. "Do me a favor and help her out? I barely know how to unclasp a bra" he said and walked the girl with violet streaks and red/black eyeshadow over to where Gwen was.

"S-sure, as long as you don't blow me away" the girl stammered up at him and tried not to shake to pieces.

"Just be smart and do what you're told. Oh, and be nice to her. Treat her like she's the only customer you've got" he instructed, wanting to kick himself when he realized she WAS the only customer in the store.

Nodding, the girl walked the rest of the way and smiled as hard as she could. "Hi, I'm here to help. Do you see anything you like?" she managed through her nervous stammering.

Gwen looked relieved to see another woman. "This thing is as big as my head!" she said in awe, holding up a bra with a double D cup.

"Ahaha, yeah, well you look more like a medium C cup. Here, I think these would fit you" the girl, Harlow according to her nametag, grabbed a few bras and showed her.

Smiling, Gwen nodded and shrugged out of the heavy trenchcoat to stand completely nude.

Everyone, including Rowan, was taken aback as she pointed out the panties she liked and the clerk handed her a fitted size in shock. Soon enough Gwen was in a push up bra and platinum pink boy shorts, reaching for all kinds of clothes and then pointing and asking about the fun clips she liked for her hair.

Harlow snapped up a couple of makeup cases and eyeliners she thought would work best for her while Gwen tossed a few bottles of brilliant hair dye she liked into the bag with the rest of her things.

Rowan was a bit shocked at how she was behaving. The last time he saw her, she had been covered in blood and looking stark raving mad, and now she wandered around like a feminine novice. Gwen laughed when she saw a shirt she liked and tossed it with the rest, then was struck with a sudden worry. She grabbed Harlow and whispered to her, and the girl nervously nodded her head and led her into the back where the fitting rooms were.

Rowan inwardly tensed at what she could be doing, but after a few minutes, he was calmed when Gwen stepped out completely dressed and done up like a punk-chic princess, her hair up and glam up with pins of little red and white skulls holding her long bangs out of her face. She wore platform black boots with a thick heel and fishnet stockings that went to her mid thigh, an embellished skirt with little belts crisscrossing along the high waist and a tight long-sleeved neon green fishnet top that her red and lacy push-up bra could be seen through. The clerk even did her make up, exaggerating the shape of her almond eyes and rouging her full lips.

Turning to look at herself in the full mirror, Gwen made a little noise that indicated she was pleased before wandering along to find the trench coat and clutch it to her chest as she wandered out of the store.

Rowan hurried to grab everything and rush after her, when a series of screams began echoing from the mall's fountain.

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"A-tah-tah-_taa__**ah**_!" The Joker hushed at the woman as she cried and whimpered into the camera's lens. "Don't you want to be **strong** for your husband? Hmm? I think you're _scaring_ him with all your yelling" he cooed before yanking her by the zippy tie around her wrists and dragging her over to the bloodied man who tried to pull himself out of the fountain.

The woman screamed the whole way and finally choked on her cries when he fished out his pocket knife from behind the camera and dangled it over her face. "Aww, c'mon Sandra, don't you think Carl deserves an apology for getting him all beat up?? I mean here he is, trying to be **brave** for you, and you try and run when Dopey tries to tie you up! I mean, doesn't seem like you're showing much _gra_ti**tude **for him taking your _place_, now does it?"

The woman cowered against the ledge of the fountain, shaking with sobs and trying not to look her husband in his swollen face.

"Shhh, shhh, c'mon, don't blubber. You look so _ugly_ with your make up and nose running all over your face" he snickered and panned the camera over at Carl, who wheezed to keep breathing. "All I wanted to do was take a Holiday census, but you scoffed and declined my questions. That wasn't very nice, _Ca__**r**__l_" he dragged the third consonant out before slurring his tone. "I mean, really, _where_ is your holiday spi**rit**?!"

The shot rang out in the mall and Sandra screamed in horror, lunging over to grab Carl as the Joker kicked her dead husband back into the fountain. The camera panned at Carl's body as it bobbed in the fountain and red spread in the clear water.

The camera crouched down and then the Joker's face came into view. "I think, Sandra's New Year's resolution should be **not** to be so stupid, otherwise, she might have to _scratch_ another person **off** her Christmas gift list next December" he remarked and unleashed the fit of laughter he'd been holding back throughout the whole display, panning the camera over to Sandra's catatonic face as she went into shock. "Now, say Merry Christmas and Happy Rocket-grenades to everyone in Gotham, from you and _me_" he stated convivially and burst into a cacophony before the camera's lens went out of focus and her scream tore through the mall once again before the camcorder was shut off.

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"See that this gets passed on, will yah" the Joker instructed smoothly as he tossed the digital camcorder to the closest henchmen and left the mess by the fountain.

He smiled cheekily at the cowering hostages, wiping his gloved hands on someone's scarf before tossing it away.

"You started the fun without me!" the surly cry made the Joker pause before turning to regard its owner. Her appearance gave him pause.

She practically materialized in front of him she was so fast, her red lips pursed in a displeased expression. He eyed her from the top of her combed and ponytail-ed hair with the little clips adorning it, pausing at her push-up bra visible through the mesh shirt and working his way down and back up to her face. Even though she was slim from her prolonged dehydration and starvation, she looked like a punk school girl with the body of a burlesque dancer. It took some convincing to collect his usually sharp wit from the scatter-brained mess it had become…something that didn't happen often.

"Well" he leaned in and smiled at her, an expression vacant of malice but revealing a hint of allure. "You look feisty, doll. Hope you didn't get done up only on my account" he teased, grabbing his trench coat and shrugging into it before snaking his arms around her waist and playfully waltzing her around. "I loved your old look, but this one is all _sin_" he hissed in her ear, making her giggle with joy as she swung around in his arms. The hostages looked on in terror, not understanding what was going on, while the boys tried not to stare too hard.

Swinging her hard, he let go of her and watched as she spun around and stopped herself effortlessly before she would've plowed into Rowan, who looked like a harried clown with all the bags he held. The whole time she giggled, as if unaware of the tension in the air. When she stopped short of bumping into Rowan, she simply looked across to the Joker and smiled before spinning her way back and grabbing him as she led their waltz this time.

Surprised, the Joker whooped in laughter. She was so vivacious and eager that it was becoming hard for him to decide just what he wanted to do with her. Since the minute he saw her at Arkham, the sexual pull had been their, deep in his gut. He wasn't normally very carnal, but with every interaction that pull increased and made the knot in his gut tighter. The fact that she was dressed like an adorable trollop when she was a murderous maniac intrigued his attraction. Well, the fact that he was even attracted to her was enough to give him pause. But then again, his celibate spell surely wasn't helping matters.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Gwen nuzzled the collar of his shirt, earning a grunt of amusement from him as his hands snaked to the small of her back.

A loud crash blew the scene apart as plexi-glass began to rain down from the sky dome over the fountain, creating even more hysteria as gun fire began to pop off and people were screaming all around them. Crouching with their arms over they heads, the Joker glance up to see the Batman practically fly down from the mall's ceiling to the ground, taking out two of his henchmen in the process.

"Well well" he gritted between his teeth, grabbing Gwen's arm and jerking him up with him as he dodged the commotion behind a flank of his men. "Bout time Batsy showed u**p**" he mumbled to himself comically and crashed to the ground with Gwen under him when more loud pops went off and a smoke bomb plumed around them.

He heard more than saw some of his men get launched and pounded every which way there was, glancing up long enough to see many of the hostages hightailing it out any direction there was the least chaos.

"We gotta go, boss!" Slappy roared over the gunfire and hysteria, crouching down by the Joker and aiming a few shots into the smoke cloud.

Gwen wiggled under him, her stomach rubbing against his crotch and causing heat to awaken beyond the zipper of his trousers. She barely heard the interested grunt that emanated from him before he hauled her up again.

The smoke dissipated, but before it did he saw the black mass of Gotham's protector as he fistedcuffed with some of his boys, one of which crashed into Slappy from a roundhouse kick to the head, leaving the Joker to stand with a crooked hunch to his shoulders. He submerged a grin when the Bat turned to set his glowering glare on him, loving how it shifted from rage to stiff concern for the woman he pulled against him. The Joker chuckled against Gwen's temple as he held his favorite blade against her throat while the other arm firmly pinned her against him.

"Ah-see how **quick** you sober at the presence of such a fetching _creat_**ure**" he remarked more than asked in his mock-jovial tone, silently communing with Gwen as she pressed her round backside against his groin and feigned fear by gripping the sides of his trench coat. "I guess you're still carrying a torch for the _dear_ly de_parted_, aren't ya" he mused sinisterly as he pressed his hips against Gwen and smirked. He knew she was in on the game when one of her hands slipped over the back of his and eagerly squeezed when he pressed the blade firmly against her jugular, a gesture that could've been perceived as anxious fear when it was something wanton and playful.

"Let her go. This has nothing to do with her or the others" the gravelly growl was clenched as Batman made a gesture that he was stepping down for the woman's sake.

"Oh, I _plan_ on taking this little minx with me. Boys" he growled mischievously, "get our things and bring the cars around."

"Dammit Joker—!!" the Batman growled wearily and took a step forward.

"Now, _ol'_ buddy, you wouldn't want to get her pretty throat _sli_**t** would you?" the menace was an undertone that glazed the mocking fun his voice rose to.

When the Batman halted and stiffened from the hero conflict, the Joker smiled wide, his scarred cheek brushing against the side of Gwen's face as he effortlessly dragged her, backstepping with his men out to the nearest exit.

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As soon as the Joker was in the van with all the bags and what was left of the guys, Rowan slammed the door shut and hopped into the passenger seat just before the van peeled out of the parking lot. He didn't know how the hell they had managed the escape, but once he looked into the back of the cab he knew the boss' new playmate helped considerably.

The two other vans split up to lead whatever cops on a wild chase while they assimilated into the rush hour traffic heading into the Narrows. Rowan pulled off his clown mask and ran his thick fingers through his jet black hair, combing any rogue strands off his temples and forehead. A hushed giggle took his attention off the road traffic ahead, leading him to glance over the head rest at the boss and his plaything.

The boss was whispering in her ear, his eyes cunning and sharp with sadistic glee, with Gwen practically in his lap and nuzzling his shoulder and murmurring responses to him.

While it was a weird fucking sight, Rowan had to admit that if the boss was out of his get up, scrubbed clean and pressed into civilian wear, they'd look like any other horny couple flirting in public.

_Couple of what!?_ The thought scared him slightly. What was in store for everyone now that the two looniest of deviants were playing together?

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Once they entered the compound, everyone was back on edge. The Joker's mood had sobered and he was expecting people to move onto the next order of business. Rowan had dutifully gone to set up his end of the orders, leaving the Joker to his own devices. Most of those devices were honed in on Gwen, who he led to the private quarters of his hide out. Her things were left in the warehouse for whoever was balsy enough to take them up without instruction to do so.

As the compound seem to buzz around them, Gwen was ushered up the stairs pass a set of stained and dingy windows looking into the warehouse below towards a more commercial wing of what used to be Gotham City's manufacturing sector along the Narrows' now abandoned waterway port.

Gwen gazed avidly all around her as she was pulled along by the Joker. He had fallen into a tense silence after she had unabashedly climbed into his lap and sheltered herself from the cold by burrowing against him, relishing in the warmth of his coat and his torso.

Gwen searched his profile, looking for any discernable twinge, but only saw the swipe of his tongue as it laved his scarred bottom lip.

They rounded a corner and came to the sky office of the warehouse, furnished with a cluttered desk, one old lamp on said desk, a wardrobe, and a large bed covered with a grimy comforter and sheets. A few pillows were propped against the broken headboard and books were littered in piles and stacks all around the right side of the bed. To the left of the bed was a small bathroom with the sparse ammenities.

Gwen stood over the desk and heard the door slam shut as she trailed her curious fingers over a stack of blueprints. "Peering eyes usually get **plucked** for their curiosity" the growl came over her shoulder as his hand gripped her wrist, pulling her away from the desk and shoving her to sit at the foot of the bed.

Her gaze lowered from the dark smears of his eyes to his hands as he pulled his purple gloves off and tossed them into the open wardrobe, his trench coat already in a heap on the floor over some scattered books. When he pulled his jacket off and tossed it over to the wardrobe, he saw how the innocent flicker disappeared from her auburn eyes. Instead, it was replaced with a slow-creeping seductive gleam that seemed to transform her deameanor.

She began to radiate an almost coquetish lust as she watched him take his green vest off. He watched her, sizing her up as his tongue idlely tugged on the corner of his scarred mouth.

"Tha_t_," he drawled coolly as his calloused fingers trailed over her jawline before gripping her chin. "Reminds me…" as abrupt as his caress begun it ended when he stepped towards the door and left her in the room to blink at the doorway.

Huffing through her nose, she tossed herself onto the bed, feeling an unrequited lust burn down her. Pressing her thighs together, she felt her cheeks burn as she realized how riled up she was from the whirlwind day. So many snapshots bombarded her, making her shake her head clear of the mess so she could sit up and pull her legs free of the platform boots. Leaping up towards the pillows, she buried her face into the musky scent that clung in her memory and on the pillow.

She was so eager to see what her friend had planned for them. The more she cuddled his pillow, the more her mind wandered over the possibilities. Her mind honed in on the tingly sensations he had managed to stir in her, her thighs to rubbing against each other absently as she remembered the hard ridge that had pressed into her backside when she played the hostage. It had persisted in the ride over to this hide out while she sat in his lap, the memory so fresh it made arousal throb to her loins.

Her hand trailed down her stomach and ventured up her skirt, too eager and tantalized by her animal attraction to her new friend. Pressing vigorously and rubbing herself into a heated passion, Gwen closed her eyes and imagined the Joker's calloused fingers were touching her instead. She hadn't realized how long she had gone without someone else's touch tickling her skin, so when he had touched her she had relished the sensations. Those sensations were all she focused on now as she drove herself to a desperate frenzy.

Panting, she arched when she felt herself growing feverish with need. Then a flash lit up the back of her eyes and she made a soft cry of ecstasy, enjoying the quick relief as it washed over her. As she began to relax over the musty sheets, she stretched her tired body out and went to curl up on her side.

"It's been a while since I saw anything so scrum**ptious**" snapping her eyes open she saw the Joker leaning against the doorframe, a long shadow from the hallway spilling over his frame while the lamp drenched the side of his face with light.

He'd been watching her for the last few minutes. It had taken a lot of his patience not to join her before she was finished, but he found something alluring in the fact that he had been only gone at least 10 minutes and she'd gone ahead without him. She was deliciously uninhibited and fixated on nothing but her baser impulses. It was a breath of fresh air, if there was such a stupid thing.

Walking into the room and kicking the door closed behind him, the Joker tossed the shopping bag he'd retrieved onto the desk, his previous intentions falling to the wayside as he stalked over to her with a shameless smirk tugging his ruggedly scarred features. "Damn _darh_-ling, you look good enough to eat" he funnily husked to her as he grabbed her ankle and dragged her to the end of the bed.

Gwen exhaled in excitement, her skin still tingly from her previous self gratification. She sat up and grabbed a fist full of his shirt, tugging him down to the bed with her. His grunt of surprised turned into a cackle when he rolled on top of her and began to rough house with her. She giggled warmly and arched against him, trying to align her hips to her so she could grind against him. Her hair became tussled and her lipstick smeared on his throat when he grabbed her ass and forced her to grind down on his hips.

"Can I…kiss you?" she breathed sultrily against his throat, her tongue brushing against his skin and tasting him.

The Joker snorted as he relaxed under her and let his hands fondle every curve. "Kiss at your on _**risssk**_" he drawled hungrily, sitting them both up so he could snake his hand between her thighs.

She gasped at the contact, grinding down on his hand and devilishly gazing into his dark burning eyes. His fingers rubbed against the damp cloth of her panties, the friction exquisite under his touch. She gripped his shoulders, pulling herself in close and surprising him once again with her initiation of the 'kiss.'

Pressing in close, she laved her tongue across the scar along the right side of his face all the way to the corner of his mouth before suckling down on his bottom lip and working up his left scar. _Ho-lee shit!!_ The Joker inwardly gritted and felt his cock strain against the confines of his trousers. Just when she was going to pull back, he dove forward and devoured her lips, kissing her with such abandon that it took her a few seconds to reciprocate with equal gusto.

As the kiss grew hot and frantic, they began tugging on each other's clothes. She fumbled with the buttons of his custom dress shirt while he roughly unzipped her skirt and began yanking the mesh shirt off her lithe body.

Growling with predatory desire, the Joker tossed her onto the bed and yanked the skirt off to be discarded with the meddlesome shirt. He sat on his knees over her as he tugged the open shirt off, kicking his shoes off and reaching quickly to the front of his trousers. Before his fingers could fiddle with the buttons and zipper, Gwen's tapered digits came up to make short work of his pants, freeing his hardened shaft after shoving the intrusive confines away.

He panted raggedly through parted lips, watching as Gwen trailed her tongue down his hairless navel down to his member, leaving a wet slick of saliva in her wake. Just before her mouth would've pursed over the tip of his swollen erection, he grabbed the back of her hair and pulled her up into a starved kiss, his hands tearing at her bra and freeing her heavy breasts to be cupped in his calloused and hot hands. Her fingers dug into his hair as they kissed, his hands snapping the fishnet stockings from the sexy boy shorts before shoving his fingers in their waistband.

Slamming her against the headboard, he pulled off her panties and left her with only her stockings. She was watching from under the canopy of her disheveled bangs, her hair completely tousled and free. The wild look burning in her irises made him smile crookedly at her as he kicked off the last of his clothing. Her eyes were unfocusedly raking over his body, over every taut muscle of his belly and his sun-touched skin.

"See anything you _want_" the comment was mocking but scintillating in tone.

Her hand came up to rest flat on his chest palm flat, her long fingers splaying over his skin, her nails looking capable of slashing someone's throat out. Suddenly she shoved him back onto the bed before she quickly climbed on top of him and ground down on his lap. He looked up at her, his hungry stare lingering on her long and jagged scar along her womb before his hands grabbed her breasts. Squeezing hard, he rolled his hips and ground his hard cock along her wet and eager womanhood.

She breathed a gasp and sighed, "Joker…"

He chuckled darkly up at her. "I didn't think you even knew my name, puppet." In no rush to conquer her, he let her rub against him until the sensations drove him to pant and groan raggedly.

Leaning down she licked the corner of his mouth, as she'd seen him do so many times already, and said, "I'm not _that_ out of touch."

He laughed against her jaw before tossing them both to roll over so he could be on top. "No, no you **ar**en'**t**" he growled as he began to guide his cock into her. She stiffened and cried out heatedly as he penetrated her with a firm thrust into her.

The feeling of her sheathing him was electrifying. He reveled in her tight heat as he began fucking her wantonly, loving how she clung to him and rocked back against him with his every thrust.

"Goddamn—!" he groaned as he sat back and pulled her up into his lap with him. She laughed melodiously before gasping with his next thrust, his drive becoming more pounding and focused on curving a bit to hit the bundle of nerves inside her. She fit perfectly against him, their mouths ripe for each other's hunger.

They kissed as they ground against each other, her mewls of pleasure trapped in his mouth and distorted by the twirling of his tongue against hers. Breaking the kiss, the Joker leaned her away from him so his mouth could fall upon her hearty breasts. He didn't really know why he was taking his time with the little minx, but her eagerness to be devoured was just too exhilarating to ignore.

Her hands gripped his arms, the tips of her nails digging into his skin as his mouth slurped one of her studded nipples around his tongue, laving at the heated flesh as she cried out in drunken ecstasy. His hands pressed against the small of her back were the only thing keeping her suspended and taut like a bow as his mouth worked her into hypersensitivity.

She arched against his mouth when she tried to ride his cock in and out of her. Instead, she began to writhe, feeling herself near the edge to mind-altering bliss.

Unable to ignore her imploring motions, let alone the trembling and engulfing heat that his member was basking in, the Joker finally slammed her back onto the bed and began pounding into her with abandon. Before long, her entire body began to clench and spasm around him as the knot in his apex began coming undone.

She abruptly cried out in the most lovely way, arching and clinging against him as she was overtaken by her orgasm. She mumbled his name over and over again, as if trying to keep a grip on him and on her sanity.

"Oh _yess_" he seethed and drove into her several more times before he came undone inside her. He pounded into her desperately, riding out his climax until he felt all sense go out of him. When he could finally regain his breath, he realized he had collapsed on top of her and was panting against her neck.

Sitting up slightly, he licked the sloping muscle that connected her slender neck to her shoulder before rolling off of her. She trembled once the heat of his body pulled away, causing her to roll on top of him seeking his warmth.

The Joker was too sated to frown at her, but he did arch a brow as he muttered, "I don'**t **cuddle, doll."

She looked into his eyes, and he could see a smile in the darkness of her auburn gaze. "I guess I'll do so at my own risk" she purred and settled her head over his shoulder and relaxed on top of him. He blinked, turning slightly to look down at her closed eyes and whimsical expression of tranquility. Tossing his head onto the crumpled pillows, he snorted inwardly and just knew he'd been too…accommodating with his new plaything.

Next time, he'd break her in properly.

* * *

THANKS FOR READING! PLEASE REVIEW!!

Author's note: I think you all know what store I'm talking about lol And yes you'll have to wait until next installment to find out what the Joker got her~ =p


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